


Postponed: No flowers, my request

by LaGemini



Series: Constantly drowning [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Episode Fix-It: s03e03 His Last Vow, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Holmes-centric, Poor Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaGemini/pseuds/LaGemini
Summary: This is a parallel universe of first work of this series: No flowers, my request.Might help you understand this better if you read it first, but could be read alone.What if Sherlock noticed Magnussen's interest towards Mycroft? What if he notices Mycroft's bad mental health?No suicide
Relationships: Anthea & Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Series: Constantly drowning [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825942
Comments: 9
Kudos: 269





	Postponed: No flowers, my request

“If you go against Magnussen, you are going against _me_.” Mycroft couldn’t help but emphasize softly, but obviously, Sherlock was too far gone to notice the subtleties right now.

Sherlock walked over to the door. “Okay, I’ll let you know if it matters. Um… what was I gotta say… Oh yeah, bye bye.” And kindly opened the door.

Mycroft slowly closed his eyes and exhaled, the only thing he will allow himself to express, and turned to leave with a final cold glance to Sherlock. And his closed bedroom door.

Sherlock may find it suspicious that he didn’t push it more, but unlikely, Mycroft concluded, considering his current condition.

He slid in to the waiting car, with Anthea working on her phone as usual. She didn’t say anything to him, indicating there wasn’t any situation that needs to be brought into his attention during his visit to his little brother.

He looked out the window for a several seconds, which wasn’t like him considering he already made up his mind, and turned to Anthea. “Look up Charles Magnussen’s hospital records. Let me know if there are any irregularities,” He ordered.

Anthea’s expression tightened as she understood what he meant. Mycroft was warmed at her concern and loyalty, but with Sherlock’s interference – of course he knew there was no way Sherlock would let it go – he needs to be prepared. That option just became one of the biggest possible course of action.

He sighed with distaste at the prospect, and detached himself from every emotion. He is a means to an end as well, after all.

As Mycroft suspected, Sherlock didn’t notice anything amiss at the encounter. He didn’t spare any second thoughts to it, but after Magnussen’s visit, or rather, after his parting words, he started to reevaluate every seconds of that.

_‘Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Holmes.’_

Sherlock replayed Magnussen’s last words and froze at the revelation. He was an _idiot_ at not seeing it earlier. Stupid drugs. Why do they have to have side effects?

John was still reeling and disbelieving at what just happened when Sherlock burst into an action.

Sherlock didn’t spare a thought to John’s confused “Sherlock?” and scrabbled for his phone.

Mycroft. _Mycroft_.

Sherlock called him three times successively, and they all went to voicemail without being picked up. Avoiding him? Or actual crisis?

Sherlock paced the floor assessing the situation, and John finally had enough after a few minutes. It has been a stressful day. “Sherlock. Who are you calling?”

“Mycroft.” Sherlock answered absentmindedly.

John wasn’t surprised at the answer being given. He knows Sherlock does that when he is not in his mind palace and the answer is short. It's one of Sherlock’s reflexes. But he is surprised at the answer itself.

Yes, what transpired was unthinkable, but Sherlock never calls Mycroft unless he needs something. And considering Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s interaction earlier, he hadn’t thought Sherlock would ask Mycroft anything in the near future. Especially regarding Magnussen. He was too prideful for that.

John also knew that Sherlock must know his thoughts on some level and purposefully choosing to ignore his confusion, but he let it go. Sherlock seems to have enough turmoil without him adding to it, and he himself needed some time.

When he made some tea and sat down on his chair, Sherlock abruptly stopped pacing and grabbed his phone once more.

It seems like the call was answered this time, but it soon became apparent that it wasn’t Mycroft.

“Anthea… Yes, yes, I know. Only dire situations only. So are you saying this is not? … No. He’s not answering the calls. Is he in the meeting? … He usually answers the phone even if he does. … Sure. Thanks.”

John watched with disbelief – he had done that too many times today, small part of his brain reminded him – at Sherlock’s thanks. Sherlock said _thanks_?!

Sherlock of course noticed it, John wasn’t even trying to hide it, and scowled. John knew better than to mention it. “So, Anthea? Is Mycroft in the meeting?”

“Yes, she will make sure Mycroft knows I called her.” Sherlock answered plopping down on his seat and shaking his legs restlessly.

“Which means…?” John prompted.

“Which means Mycroft will know that I absolutely will talk to him no matter what. I never call Anthea unless it is a dire situation.”

Which means, John thought, that he never does. He thinks Sherlock will rather die than to appear desperate to Mycroft.

“So this is a dire situation?”

“Of course it is, John. Anthea answered my phone at second ring, didn’t refute my claim of dire situation, and even agreed to strongly express my determination to Mycroft. I don’t know the exact circumstances, but _Anthea_ is supporting _me_ to change Mycroft’s mind. It _is_ a dire situation.” Sherlock concluded with obvious distaste.

When it is put like that, John had to agree that it is. Over the years of his friendship with Sherlock, he saw Sherlock having complicated relationship with Mycroft, but he also saw Sherlock having absolutely frigid relationship with Anthea. This is the first time those two came to an agreement, against _Mycroft_ he might add, and John was starting to get worried at the implication.

About 30 minutes of foreboding silence, a message arrived on Sherlock’s phone. He snatched it up right away, and scowled at the contents. John thought he might have seen some worry in it as well, if he was not mistaken.

“Come on, John.”

John was out of the chair even before Sherlock finished the words. “What is it?”

“Anthea said she did tell him. And Mycroft isn't calling me. Which means Mycroft won’t contact me until the day is over, and more importantly, Anthea felt the need to let me know of the fact. Mycroft is stalling. We have to see him. _Now_.” With that, they took the cab with Sherlock’s uncanny ability to provide one.

When they arrived at Whitehall and marched through the hallways without any problem, John understood Sherlock’s uneasiness more. Anthea must have made their passage unhindered, and she is worried enough for the situation to do that.

John’s guess proved right as Anthea just looked away pretending to focus on her phone when they arrived outside of Mycroft’s door.

Sherlock didn’t even pause to see if Anthea blocks them or not before opening the door with the bang. John saw Mycroft raises his head in alarm at the noise.

Mycroft sighed at seeing Sherlock and Dr. Watson, and Anthea pretending not to notice anything amiss from the background. He inched his hand away from the alarm button he was about to press.

Mycroft gestured them to sit as Dr. Watson politely closes the door. He was hoping to deal with Sherlock after the work, but obviously, his little brother was impatient and Anthea was more worried than he thought.

“What are you planning?” Sherlock asked without preamble, stalking in and leaning over a desk.

Mycroft didn’t react to it any more than neatly folding his hands on the desk. “I have a lot of plans at any given time, Sherlock. You know that.” Mycroft answered calmly, staring straight into Sherlock’s eyes, looking up from his seat. He idly noticed Dr. Watson looking uncomfortable not knowing whether he should sit or not.

Sherlock leaned forward slightly more to stop Mycroft from stalling, but there was a knock. Even before Mycroft answers, Anthea opened the door carrying a tea tray.

Mycroft sighed audibly. It never happened before; Anthea helping Sherlock or interrupting his meetings like this. She never showed disrespect at Mycroft’s boundaries, and Mycroft couldn’t get affronted by it now when it is just her being extremely worried and protective of him.

Sherlock took the seat fuming now that Anthea interrupted his interrogation, and John followed suit.

Anthea didn’t show any indication of her acting out of norm while placing the tea tray in front of Mycroft, but Mycroft could see apologize and worry in her eyes. Mycroft sighed once more.

“Stay, Anthea. You obviously would like to.” Mycroft offered, knowing she will hear the whole conversation from her desk even if he doesn’t offer it. She would know better than to leave chances of their conversation being overheard before coming in, at least.

As expected, Anthea smiled at him and stood beside the desk. She won’t sit down in case someone dangerous barges in when she is not on the other side of the door, guarding. Mycroft turned his attention back to Sherlock.

“Tea, little brother? Dr. Watson?” Mycroft offered.

Just as John was going to accept the offer, Sherlock interrupted. “Cut the crap, Mycroft. What are you planning?” Sherlock asked shooting a glare at him aggressively.

Mycroft tapped the desk, thinking. “I am guessing you are asking the plans regarding Magnussen. Which are several, as you might have guessed, brother mine. And you usually are not interested in what I planned. You made that clear this morning. So please, why are you asking?”

Sherlock called him right after Magnussen departed from 221B. Mycroft was sure Sherlock didn’t notice anything earlier, so it must be something from Magnussen that alerted Sherlock. He needs to know what it is.

Sherlock seemed extremely annoyed at Mycroft not answering his question right away, but he must have noticed he won’t unless he talks first. He emitted frustrated huff and started to tell what happened.

“…And he said ‘Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Holmes.’ Right before getting out.” Sherlock spat out the words through the clenched teeth with disgust.

John of course heard the words as well, but he didn’t think it means anything particular. He just thought it was another thing Magnussen did to infuriate them by being polite more than necessary.

Sherlock didn’t know the exact situation, but Anthea and Mycroft knew exactly what Magnussen meant. Anthea clenched her teeth at the implication, and Mycroft just hummed in thought as a response.

He really wanted to leave Sherlock out of this, at least from the core of the situation, but Magnussen doesn’t seem to leave him much choices. Even if he wanted to conceal the core part of it, Sherlock will undoubtedly find it out sooner or later. Mycroft usually is proud of Sherlock’s intellect, but he has to admit that there are inconveniencies time to time.

Very well, he already made up his mind, after all.

As soon as his thoughts are organized after predicting every possible course of future, Mycroft stopped tapping and focused on Sherlock once more. “And?”

Sherlock scowled fiercely that Mycroft was still not giving him an answer. “And he obviously wants something from me, something he could get through me. You told me I am going against you if I go after Magnussen. So obviously, he wants something from you. You must know this and you must be planning something, because that is what you do. And that plan makes Anthea worried enough to help me, make _you_ enough to stall things. Anthea never helps me against you, and you never stall. So. Answer me brother. What does he wants and what are you planning?” Sherlock was at the end of his patience, and he doesn’t have enough to start with. Anthea’s constantly worried eyes were grating his nerves and made him lose his patience faster as well.

Mycroft leaned back on his chair, clasping his hands over his crossed legs. “He wants me.” He answered frankly. There’s no point not to.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed slightly and then widened in disbelief as he understood what he meant. Dr. Watson wasn’t. He’s still confused.

“Yes, as in sexual term ‘want’ want me.” He confirmed a question on Sherlock’s disbelieving gaze, effectively ending Dr. Watson’s confusion as well. His eyes looked dangerously close to popping out of their sockets.

“Why?” Sherlock asked in strangled voice.

Mycroft quirked his brow. He knows Sherlock could come up with the answer on his own. It’s not that hard. He answered anyway. “Don’t look so disbelieving, brother mine. I know I am not much to look at,” Anthea scoffed at that, but he ignored it, “but my position and power appeals to him more than enough. It’s just part of his power game, making me let him rape me to show off his power. The fact that I am making it hard for him only makes him want me more.”

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I think he wants slightly more than that.” Anthea spoke for the first time with underlying disgust and contempt towards Magnussen.

Mycroft shrugged. “Yes, he is obsessed, and he will try everything he has to break me and turn into his brokenly dedicated puppet, but the bottom line is about the power. It is not something like love or any physical attraction.” He finished dismissively.

Anthea seemed to slightly disagree with his last assessment, but it doesn’t matter. Mycroft knows Magnussen likes what he sees, but he wouldn’t have looked at all if he didn’t have this much power.

“And your plan is?” Sherlock’s voice sounded more strangled. Mycroft raised his eyebrows at that. His reaction was not what he expected.

“I have several plans, as I said, but since he decided to bring you into his game, using his interest in me appears to be the most probable future.” He answered calmly. As Sherlock’s deductive skills, his predictions are rarely wrong.

Unless it comes to Sherlock.

“ _Are you_ _insane?_ ” Sherlock hissed. His posture was rigid with suppressed anger, and he was at the brink of getting Mycroft’s head examined. Or try to shake a sense in him.

Mycroft blinked. He definitely didn’t expect that reaction. Anthea’s carefully concealed tight expression and Dr. Watson’s confused expression were expected. But Sherlock, Sherlock must know what he is thinking. And he never thought that Sherlock’s reaction will be like this: astonishment at his decision and bordering on worry, if he wasn’t hallucinating. Mycroft genuinely felt wary about his miscalculation.

“I’m… sorry?” Mycroft tried, not knowing exactly what to make of Sherlock’s reaction.

“You actually are thinking about letting him _rape_ you?!” Sherlock finally yelled. John paled and his jaw hit the floor at finally knowing what Mycroft was planning to do.

Small part of Mycroft’s brain was thankful of the soundproof his office provides. If not, any passerby in the vicinity of the room would have heard it.

Mycroft’s finger twitched slightly wanting to tap the desk again. He refrained. “I’m not sure what to make of your reaction.” He admitted.

Sherlock was astonished. Not beyond words, because he _needed_ to know what his brother is thinking. “You are the one who are considering the option of being raped and you can’t understand _my_ reaction? And to think I was trying to deduce why Anthea was helping me against your wish!”

“Of course it is something I would prefer not to happen, Sherlock, don’t make it sound like I want it. But in current situation, that course of action has the highest possibility of stopping Magnussen. And I knew Anthea doesn’t like to follow that plan. She is protective towards me. You, on the other hand…” Mycroft didn’t finish his sentence. They will hear is anyway.

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth several times to refrain from shouting. “Do you think I want you to be raped?” He finally settled on hissing the words out. His knuckles were wax-white by clutching the armrest.

Mycroft quirked his eyebrow. Sherlock wanted to tear off that brow or punch the face for Mycroft to stop being so bloody calm at the situation.

“Of course not, brother dear. I know you don’t hate me that much to _wish_ it. I just thought that you wouldn't mind whether it happens or not. And that you would use his interest in me to lure him out. You would of course have every intention to not let it happen, I know, Sherlock.” Mycroft added the last bit and smiled placatory at Sherlock. He actually does think Sherlock would have made contingency plans if he dangles Mycroft in front of Magnussen.

And of course, it didn’t work at all to placate Sherlock. “You thought I would use you as a bait and let you be raped to, to…” Sherlock sounded faint now.

John could follow and empathize with Sherlock’s feeling for the first time. He just couldn’t understand what Mycroft is thinking and he isn’t even _his_ brother!

And Anthea felt satisfactory at the way the conversation is going. Mycroft thought Sherlock would use him as a bait, and Anthea was not sure Sherlock would not, even if the stake was this high. She had absolutely zero trust in Sherlock regarding his treatment towards Mycroft. Thankfully, Sherlock was less sociopathic than she feared, and she hoped that he could change Mycroft’s mind.

Mycroft, on the other hand, was completely baffled. He started to tap his thigh, concealed by the desk. “No, Sherlock. As I said, I knew you would have made back up plans to prevent the rape part. But of course, with the current situation, my calculation of rape actually occurring is the most probable scenario. You know my calculation is rarely wrong. So I was going to use it, and Anthea pulled up Magnussen’s hospital records. He does not have any STDs.” He added the information helpfully.

As his previous attempt, it didn’t do any good to placate Sherlock. Sherlock thought he might faint at the situation. And Mycroft’s reaction.

Mycroft sighed impatiently. “Sherlock, I actually cannot understand your reaction. What’s the difference in using my transport – as you say – as a bait and you consuming drugs for the purpose of getting him? In my point of view, yours are more detrimental to one’s health.”

“But rape leaves psychological trauma, Mycroft.” John said softly, for the first time they got here. According to what he heard, the act would be much worse than plain and brutal rape. How can Mycroft even consider it as an option?

“Dr. Watson. I know it is not true for most of the others, but for me, it is just an another form of pain, not so different from getting shot at to apprehend a culprit. Also, I do think that Magnussen won’t leave any permanent damages, maybe a modification or two, at least at the start. What he will do after that, we don’t have to worry about it because he will be stopped before that. It’s just a means to an end.” Mycroft said in a sure tone.

John got speechless at that again. He doesn’t even know where to begin with.

“It has happened before,” Sherlock whispered.

Anthea turned her head sharply towards Sherlock. Mycroft knew he couldn’t deny it after her reaction. She must have known it as well, as she shot an apologetic glance towards him.

Even John noticed it, and his jaw seemed to be unhinged for the second time.

Mycroft sighed. “It was a long time ago. Someone took interest in me, and even though he was less powerful and sophisticated than Magnussen, I was less powerful back then as well. I got him removed swiftly using it. So you will understand that my earlier assessment was not a false bravado?”

“Why didn’t I know?”

Mycroft quirked his eyebrow. “Because us not seeing for a couple of weeks was not unusual back then, and you would have been high anyway.” Sherlock couldn’t find an answer to that.

“What are you trying to achieve?” Sherlock asked after awhile, still deathly pale at the situation. “You said so yourself. He’s a business man, and he is a necessary evil. He is trying to get you and you were just denying him instead of stopping him because he is useful. Why are you trying to stop him now? And why are you trying to give him what he wants desperately to destroy his blueprint? If he has you, there won’t be the need of that blueprint for him.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft smiled fondly at Sherlock. Of course he needs to stop him. “Yes, I found him useful and I don’t care if he wants to take over the world. But his blueprint now contains you, little brother. And even after he doesn’t need the blueprint anymore, he needs you to enslave me. Of course I have to stop him.”

Anthea bit back a sigh. She really thinks she prefers Sherlock to be nonexistent from Mycroft’s life from the start.

John saw many broken people in his life. It is not his major, psychology, but he is a doctor and he went to Afghanistan. He had met his fare share of broken people, but he had never met such a well-functioning shattered man in his life. He knew about Mycroft worrying constantly over Sherlock and being overprotective of him, but this is the first time seeing Mycroft’s complete lack of self-preservation instinct and obsessive dedication to Sherlock. It sent chills down his back. He didn’t even know when those started, but he was sure it was well before the first rape.

And for the first time, John began to worry about Mycroft’s mental health. He just thought him eccentric due to the size of his brain, but nothing more because he appeared absolutely normal compared to Sherlock. It now occurred to John that maybe Mycroft was way better at hiding and pretending. Sherlock did say Mycroft was smarter than him, albeit grudgingly.

“He… he would do much worse than that, according to your words. He might record it. He might use it. You might just give him more leverage.” Sherlock finally found his words after rendered speechless for a several minutes.

“That is why I am setting up a trap, little brother. I may be planning to let him, but I do want to minimize the damage. And the video, well, how do you think I proved the rape the first time, Sherlock?” Mycroft tilted his head and raised a brow. It was unpleasant, showing his private parts, but it was necessary. And he made sure thqt there are no copies left. It was easy to prevent that, back then. He thought wistfully. He might not be able to manage it this time.

Sherlock felt bile on his throat at the thought. “This is insane.” He croaked.

John and Anthea nodded wholeheartedly.

Mycroft sighed. “As I said, I don’t see the difference, little brother. You allowed your body to fall under the vice once more for the case. I am using my body to protect you. I think my course of action is more reasonable, don’t you think?”

“Oh, of course. Your condemnation towards my drug habit again.” Sherlock spat reflexively, and regretted it. Mycroft didn’t mean that, and this is not the time.

“I never condemned you about your drugs, Sherlock,” Sherlock gave a disbelieving snort. “It’s true. I was worried about your overdoses, wanted to prevent you from dying, but I never condemned you about your usage. I understood it too well to condemn it, Sherlock. _I_ was tempted seeing their effects on you.” Mycroft was genuinely surprised once more for Sherlock at not knowing that.

Seeing astonished gazes from the three of them, he raised his eyebrow. Dr. Watson, he understands, Anthea, he thought she might know it, but wasn’t surprised that she doesn’t. But Sherlock?

“You do know that you and I have similar brains, don’t you Sherlock? Of course I was tempted to silence it and _breathe_.” Mycroft pronounced the word with utter fascination, like someone who are drowning now and couldn’t breathe.

And Sherlock understood. “Goldfish,” Sherlock breathed.

Mycroft nodded. “Exactly.”

Seeing the other two’s confusion, he elaborated. “I once likened the general population to goldfish to Sherlock. Of course, there are others who are not goldfish, but most are fish nonetheless. Inhaling a stream of information and expelling majority of it through their gills, able to breathe inside the stream. We, Sherlock and I, are not fish. You have noticed our deductive powers, Anthea, Dr. Watson. It is not that we can see things if we want it. The barrage of information is poured onto our brain. We can’t expel any of it, we are not a fish with gills. We can’t _breathe_. We are drowning with all the information we drank. Constantly.”

“And drugs slow down our brain enough to let information through or at least let us focus on important things instead of knowing and processing everything at the same time.” Sherlock finished Mycroft’s words.

Mycroft nodded. He really hasn’t thought that Sherlock didn’t know.

There was a silence of the occupants processing the information. Anthea and John were trying to wrap their mind of having that kind of brain, Sherlock was irritated at not noticing things sooner, and Mycroft was evaluating the whole meeting.

“So,” Mycroft tapped the armrest. “Does that mean you are not inclined to use me as a bait? I have to admit, the possibility of you doing so increased the probability of me actually being raped.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at that. “You mean if I don’t, there are other ways?”

Mycroft shrugged slightly. “You are the wild card, Sherlock. The one I cannot predict correctly. My rarely wrong predictions always involve you. So yes, without knowing your exact course of action, using myself as a bait was the most definite way to get Magnussen. If you are actually amenable to plan things together and not act on your own, I don’t have to resort to that. It was distasteful with all the mess after all.” Mycroft said frowning slightly at the memory. Unlike Sherlock, he rarely deletes things from his mind palace.

Sherlock actually flinched. Mycroft chose to get raped than talking to him and persuading him to not use him as a bait. He was so sure Sherlock would use him without any regards on him, and Sherlock couldn’t actually fault him for thinking that with his attitudes towards him for past several decades.

“I won’t let you do that, brother, even if that is the only way.” Sherlock said vehemently.

Mycroft looked pleasantly surprised. Anthea looked pleased, and John seemed surprised and proud. They all thought that he would use him as a bait then. Sherlock swallowed the bile that threatens to ascend.

“I will visit tonight, then, Sherlock. I have another meeting soon.” Mycroft said pleasantly, stacking his untouched teacup onto the tray.

Sherlock got up without protest, and got out of the door after a final nod. John followed.

“That was…” John started while following Sherlock stalk through the Whitehall, but Sherlock cut him off sharply. “Not now, John.”

John seemed like he has many things to say, but didn’t voice it at the end. It occurs to him as well that there might be someone hearing them and report back to Magnussen.

As for Sherlock, his mind was reeling with the information revealed during that one meeting. He had to assess his whole life and the whole situation based on it. Moreover, he needs to come up with a plan to get rid of Magnussen. He won’t act alone this time, though. He was sure Mycroft will resort to… _that_ plan if he detects even the slightest possibility of things not going as he predicted. He needs to follow their plan this time, and he know he could do it. He did during the hiatus, after all.

With renewed determination and disgust towards Magnussen, he and John went back to the Baker street. Planning and assessing the situation, waiting for Mycroft.

**Author's Note:**

> As I like Mycroft sooo much, I wanted to keep him alive where the others could regret their actions towards him and fix things. It is a less wake-up call than the first work, but I wanted to have this as well. Sadly, no plan for adding another chapter to show what happened and how they will deal with Eurus now that they are on the road of reconciling for now. I might, if the muse struck.  
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
